The Clearing
by Rasiaa
Summary: There were a lot of things he didn't believe in before he met Lily.


_for syranzra: lily/lysander, romance, soulmate au_

_rock em sock em: sewing needle, veriteserum, cerulean_

_packets of prompts challenge: word: title_

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"Where are we going?"

Lysander turns his head slightly to grin at his new girlfriend, who rolls her eyes with a huff. "You're being unusually mysterious, Ly, I'm not sure how much I like it."

"Oh, you love a mystery as much as the next person."

He ducks under a series of low hanging tree branches, pushing them out of the way. He hears Lily yelp slightly as one hits her. He turns back around but she waves him on, irritated now. Inwardly sighing, he takes one more look at her ruffled hair and bright eyes before turning around and continuing on.

The path is barely discernible in the dawning light and overabundance of greenery. But he's walked it enough to know. It's second nature now.

"What is that?"

He glances back to find Lily standing very still, wary, almost frightened but too headstrong to show it.

"It's just water," he reassures, hearing the crashes just as well as she can.

Looking dubious, she nods slightly and tiptoes forward to catch up. "I thought it was a bear or something," she confesses when they walk close again. He huffs a laugh and shakes his head fondly.

He would protect her from a bear if need be.

It takes a few more minutes to reach the clearing.

"My father proposed to my mother here," he says.

Lily sucks in a sharp breath when she breaks through the tree line, her arm above her to brush the branches aside. Leaves tangle in her hair but for once she doesn't seem to care. In mud-splattered jeans and a kitten-soft pink shirt run down from years of use, she's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. Her footsteps are slow as she ventures into the clearing, taking in the patches of white sunlight and the small waterfall that had been the source of the crashes.

She reaches out and touches one of the trunks of a tree, her sleeve falling down her arm. He sees his name in cerulean blue on her wrist, and his breath catches in his throat. He's seen it before, of course, but it never fails to throw him for a loop.

Lily Potter is his and there's nothing anyone can do about it. He bears the title of her soulmate proudly, and as she looks at him instead of the frogs on the stones, he feels like he could fly with the wonder of it all.

"It's beautiful, Lysander," Lily says eventually, her fingers trailing along the trees. She paces the length of the clearing. It's a path he's walked many times.

He walks over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leans back against his chest with a sigh, one hand coming back to dig into his hair. He presses a kiss to her temple and she sighs a little.

"Only the best for you, darling," he murmurs lowly, and is rewarded with a huff of laughter.

"So you've said," she says, pulling back and spinning around, linking their fingers together. "Oh, Lysander - it's so ethereal here. Like another realm."

"Yes," he agrees, like always. "It really is."

Her eyes soften and for a moment they just stare at each other. Fingers linked like this, he can feel her in the back of his mind, just a foreign presence that feels like home. It's a phenomenon he's read about before in many books on soulmates, but he never believed it before he first talked to Lily.

There were a lot of things he didn't believe in before he met Lily.

She breaks the gaze first. (He doesn't think he could if he wanted to.) As ever, she pulls away first. It's her hands in the water first; it's her delight that manifests in a smile first.

He's always a step behind and there's nowhere else he'd rather be, ready to catch her if she falls.

She's flighty like that.

If he could take a sewing needle and make sure she never leaves the ground - for her safety, for his peace of mind, for his easier life - he doesn't know if he could do it. He'd rather fall with her than cut her wings.

Water on his face breaks his thoughts, and the dopey smile on his face falls away. Shocked but still somehow unsurprised, he blinks the water from his lashes and runs a hand down his face. It doesn't really help but at least he tried.

She's in the water. Her sandals are by the water's edge. He notices that she's not bothered to roll up her jeans, so they stick to her skin tightly.

He knows this was intentional.

Grinning, he joins her, but he doesn't bother kicking off his shoes. He's due for new ones anyway.

He can remember how they met, now, and when she takes his hands he's transported back. They were children. They were naive and they wouldn't understand why their thoughts could be shared until years later. She was in pastel blue and so was he and it was Easter and he could swear under veritaserum that the clouds parted when their eyes met. Cliché, maybe, but he knows it.

"I love you," she says, and his heart beats a little faster. No matter how often he hears it he doubts he'll ever get used to it.

"I love you," he returns, leaning his forehead against hers. His hand moves to tangle in the back of her hair, the soft red curls she styles it into like silk on his fingers. She smiles, slow.

Her thoughts are calm. Her free hand comes to rest on his waist, and he knows that she's happy.

That's all he's ever wanted.


End file.
